Anniversary of a Tragedy

The gathering of recruits amassed in the courtyard awaiting the speaker, backed by a crowd of well-wishing folk come to join with the day's events. General McKay gave a dry introduction to proceedings surrounded by the usual regalia of such militaristic showings. The day was a significant anniversary of the war which ravaged the western world and today the new recruits would have the fortune to hear an account of a soldier who had been in the fray. As introductions were made, pomp and standard respects set in motion, the hunched and wizened frame of Captain Howard Dean was introduced to the stiffly attentive audience and the civilians behind who would attend to pay their yearly respects.



Dean approached the podium, speech in hand as dictated to and typed up by his daughter. Some significant time had been spent preparing this and at such an important anniversary he was determined that it should be a good one. Emblazoned with medallions and clad in the faintly ridiculous costume his career entitled he cleared his throat, brushed his cuffs and prepared to sate the crowd.

"On this day, many decades ago, a war was declared on the continent. Our fair country alongside our allies in Europe decried the expansions of our opponents and declared that we should protect our interests and those around us by going to war. I fought for my country, this Great Britain, and I am proud to say that I have. If there is one thing worth fighting for it is the future: for the children, for the new generations as yet unblemished by the tragedies we have endured. You as recruits, and you too as civilians must remember that we fought for your freedoms and you must do your best to improve the lives of future generations in our stead."

A short round of applause followed. Dean blinked slowly, referring to his papers before raising a wrinkled, ornamented hand to bay the appreciation. There was more to be said.

"Of course I was not the only one there. Many thousands of good men fought in bloodied battles and in this desperate struggle their lives were cut short. We stand here not only to rejoice in the freedoms acquired on the battlefield, but also to mourn that they were bought with so many lives. These were sacrifices in your name and the name of every child born on this sacred soil. Their lives, were I to be so bold, may be worth the sacrifice if the lessons may be learned to ensure such a tragedy does not occur again."

A quieter applause emanated, for appreciation, but smothered in a slightly forced solemnity. Silence had by now become the universal and habitual sign of respect for the lost and the damned, a common thing to not be heard on these anniversary events. Dean would be damned if this would interfere with his narrative.

"But the tragedy is that lessons have not been learned." What little applause had been rippling halted.

"The bones of many thousands of men lie beneath the dirt of the battlefield and they are respected in events such as these. Over decades I have attended these events, and each year the focus is being moved from the tragedies and fortunes of the war to a chocolate-box ideal of the battlefield. Paintings and memorials serve to corrupt our sacrifices and turn us into tin men fighting toy battles."

By now General McKay had become concerned for Dean and stood to usher him off. Dean did not take to this kindly.

"Would you let me finish General? I am not some kindly old man, a slow-moving, wrinkled grandfather whose grip on the world is loosening. These thoughts have been in me from the very first events of this kind, they are not the product of an ageing, decaying mind.

"This is the problem, young men: that I seem so unusual to you. You do not see me as a man who has endured hardships, you see me as a sagging shell to be coddled where once there was a man riding a horse into battle rendered in oil paints. Each year the reality of these tragedies are distanced in the heads of the young. There are some of you here today whose parents were not even conceived when I was killing men in muddied, blooded fields.

"Remember that this is not a myth, a legend of disputed detail. The war happened. Many lives were lost. There were short of one hundred men in my company of which only I remain. I would list each of their names in turn, were you not to lose interest only ten in.

"You must all do your best to remember that once I was like you, and one day you will be like me, and I sincerely hope when that day comes you don't feel as though you should say what I do now. You must all do your best to remember that these events aren't some religious service whose origins are lost to time, and whose attendance is governed by personal image. This misdirection happened with the great war one hundred years before and I can see clear as the day that it is happening again. You must all do your best to remember that this war could happen again, with our improved weaponry and technology only increasing the deaths.

"If there is one thing worth fighting for it is the future. But all the time the people we had fought for ignore their future and staring nostalgically at the past, these tragedies will certainly happen again. Don't just remember, friends, think."

As Captain Dean made his gradual and silent descent from the podium his sincerity had left an unease in the audience. When the expectations of a mass of people are shattered the weight of the shards can have a detrimental effect on the mood of the broken. Whilst Captain McKay made his best effort to keep the ceremony running, the proceedings were laced with that same concern and disillusionment.

The following year Dean's fears would be justified. In Sarajevo, Bosnia, the archduke of Austria and his wife were assassinated. Soon those young men in the courtyard were sent to battle and so began the first world war.


(Thanks to Stuart for the prompt.)